An Unconventional Fairytale
by wonderwoundedhearers
Summary: AU. Hordor forces Rumplestiltskin into rescuing him a princess bride from a dragon-guarded castle. No one counts on Belle being that princess. Lem. O/s.


"Please, spare the boy. Don't take my son."

Rumplestiltskin pleaded and grovelled as he knelt in the dirt at Hordor's feet. The Duke and his men gathered about him and Baelfire, laughing, but the expected beating did not come, and as Rumplestiltskin glanced up, he saw Hordor held a single gloved hand in the air, halting his soldiers.

"You know, Spindleshanks, I should just take your son now and save myself the trouble of coming for him in the morning," the Duke said, smiling. "But I have...a _better_ idea. Do you know of a place called Avonlea?"

The turn in conversation left him bewildered, but he shook his head nonetheless. No, he didn't know of Avonlea, didn't know of much beyond this land that he had grown up in and lived in and worked in. What he did know about what lay beyond these borders could fill an egg-shell.

Hordor looked at him like he was utterly pitiful. "I expect you don't know much, do you, peasant? Avonlea's neighbouring kingdom has lost a princess to a ferocious dragon and are incapable of collecting her themselves as they are beating back ogres on their doorstep. I want her hand in marriage. Bring her to me, and I will spare your son from going to war."

Rumplestiltskin gazed up, Bae at his side, and knew that this was not a simple reprieve. This was punishment.

Hordor bared his teeth. "Ah, you understand that much, hm? Yes, you'll probably not survive it, for dragons guard their treasure with dark and jealous purpose. But should you succeed, I will have a great beauty for a wife and a grateful kingdom at my disposal, and you...you will have your son back."

Rumplestiltskin had barely a second to grasp Hordor's words before a cloud of acrid green smoke overtook his son and swirled about his form, stinging Rumplestiltskin's desperate fingers as he tried to clutch at Bae.

Hordor and the men laughed as the Dark One, cloaked and shadowed, stepped from behind the closest clump of trees, hand outstretched and magic thickening the air. The smoke lifted, and in Bae's place there sat a brown and blinking beast.

Rumplestiltskin's horror could not have matched Hordor's amusement.

"An ass! How appropriate," the Duke jeered, his guffawing men a backdrop to his triumph over the poor, friendless spinner. "Let this motivate you to complete my task, Spindleshanks, for if you don't, your son will remain this way for the rest of his life."

He left then. The Duke simply turned about and mounted his black steed, calling for his men to ride out and leave the peasant and his donkey to their task. The Dark One vanished too, and Rumplestiltskin was left alone, looking into the sweet hazel eyes of his son, eyes that hadn't changed an inch.

The donkey's fur was tufted and short in places, its body brown and fluffy, and its long ears were akilter in the saddest expression. Rumplestiltskin reached out with tentative fingers, gently brushing the soft nose of the baby donkey.

"It..." He swallowed, trying to smile around his tears. "It's alright, Bae. We-we'll save this girl, and then we'll save you, alright? It'll be alright."

The donkey huffed into Rumplestiltskin's hand, the knobbly knees of its spindly dark legs shaking as it trotted forward, and made a pitiful whining noise that tore Rumplestiltskin's heart in two.

"It's alright," he said, pulling the beast into an embrace. "It's alright."

"Papa..."

He looked down, blinking. No, surely not. He hadn't heard that...had he?

But the donkey was looking at him, all wide-eyed and wonky on his little legs, and it seemed as if he was waiting for a reply...

"B-_Bae_?"

"This is...strange," the donkey said, clapping his small hooves against the ground. "But it doesn't hurt."

Rumplestiltskin stared, and then stared again. His transformed son pulled away, trotting about in a circle on unsure legs before breaking into a wobbly canter and promptly tripping into the dirt.

"Bae?"

The donkey righted itself, flicking its tail, and looked at him. Rumplestiltskin watched as the donkey's mouth moved and his son's voice sprung forth.

"Yes?"

He felt his heart hammer and his eyes fly wide. He had...a talking donkey. His _son_ was a talking donkey.

"You don't look well," Bae said, coming closer.

Rumplestiltskin shook his head, wondering if this madness would disappear if he cleared his mind a bit. But it didn't. His son was still a donkey and watching him worriedly.

"We'll save the princess, Papa," Bae said, knocking his hoof against Rumplestiltskin's knee. "We'll be noble – like _knights_ – like I've always wanted."

"Yes, but you're a _donkey_," Rumplestiltskin urged, wondering if his son couldn't quite grasp this new development.

Bae jolted his fluffy brown head. "But they'll change me back, and we'll get to stay together, _and_ we'll clear your name! You won't be a coward any more – you'll be a hero!"

Rumplestiltskin stared, trying not to let his pessimism overcome him and let Bae know his sudden reservations about Hordor's deal. There was no reason for the Duke to keep to his word, and Rumplestiltskin, powerless as he was, had no way of ensuring that his son wasn't sent to war, let alone turned back into a boy!

And his cowardice was strong, too. Rumplestiltskin could feel the fear creeping upon him at the thought of his son within even a hundred miles of a _dragon_ – let alone one with treasure to guard! – but if this was the only way to save him and drag him out of this mess, then...

He could hold her, the princess, and keep her away from Hordor until the Dark One had returned Rumplestiltskin his son. Then they would leave the village and never look back while Hordor went to collect his bride-to-be from some hiding place.

He looked into Bae's eyes, drawing a hand through the uneven fur that was reminiscent of his son's shaggy hair.

"At least you can talk," Rumplestiltskin tried, weakly. "We can keep each other company on the journey."

Bae pressed his fluffy face against Rumplestiltskin's rough cloak and tunic.

"We'll be brave, Papa. We'll do it."

Rumplestiltskin sighed and held his son to him, knowing there was no other option.

"Where is Avonlea, anyway?" Bae asked, pulling back, and Rumplestiltskin shrugged helplessly.

"We'll just have to find a map, son," was his reply, and he'd be damned if Bae didn't look excited by that.

* * *

Avonlea, according to the villager Rumplestiltskin had come across travelling down the road, was to the south and nearly three days journey away. The woman had been unable to offer any more information, but had taken quite an interest in Bae when the donkey had made a noise quite unlike his kind.

Rumplestiltskin had coughed over him and thanked the woman, before pressing on down the dirt forest road and pulling his son along with him.

Once around a bend in the road and out of sight of prying eyes, Rumplestiltskin stared down at his little donkey and said, "You can't just go talking to anyone, Bae."

His son fell back onto his backside and stared up at him. "Why not?"

"What if they try to take you off me?"

"Who?"

"_Anyone_."

"Oh," the donkey said, looking sheepish. "Sorry. But we've been walking all morning and that was the first bit of good news we've heard."

Rumplestiltskin looked about them, seeing if the early morning light illuminated any other people along the path, but could see no one. He looked back down at his son.

"And don't run off," he warned Bae. "We're not going through all this just for you to wind up sold at market."

Bae nodded and gave a loud and obviously involuntary _hee-haw_. Rumplestiltskin couldn't choke his laugh fast enough. The little donkey bit his knee before trotting off in high dudgeon, leaving Rumplestiltskin to follow, attempting to strangle his laughter.

* * *

They were well-prepared for a journey of some sort, having packed what little food and coin they had for their foiled escape, but it rained often and the road to Avonlea was long.

It was not, Rumplestiltskin suspected, what Bae had in mind when he dreamt of rescuing princesses and being a knight of the realm.

His son was bored, he could see, but there wasn't much else to do except spin idle yarns and pretend to be a man and his donkey when there were passersby.

"I don't think I have enough patience for adventures," his son said mournfully as they approached the crest of a small hill in the road.

Rumplestiltskin looked fondly down at the donkey, stepping in time with his staff as he used his other hand tousle Bae's thick fur. He was just about to placate his boy when they saw what lay at the bottom of the hillside.

Wrecked and blackened stone houses dotted the landscape ahead, where the trees of the forest thinned and the shape of a small town was recognisable. There were, however, no buildings of any sort that could live up to the name. There were some standing walls, but most places were simply rubble and ash, the ground black and the air stale.

Bae tucked himself against Rumplestiltskin's leg. "Papa?"

"I think we've found our dragon," he told his son, looking over the land spread out before them.

The road led down into the village, but he could see, just beyond, that larger towns led right, out towards the south, which he assumed to be Avonlea. To the left, there was more forest, higher plains and...a path, carved into the scorched trees. The path of a fire-wielding beast, Rumplestiltskin had no doubt.

Bae took a cautious step forward, his tail shaking, before looking up at his father. "Well?"

Rumplestiltskin could see the renewed vigour in his son's eyes and he rolled his own.

"What are we waiting for?" He muttered under his breath as they took the path into the destroyed village and turned left, away from the livelier-looking lands and into the beast's domain.

* * *

It didn't take them long to find the creature.

In fact, the dragon had been kind enough to leave behind a fair amount of blackened and charred skeletons, making even Bae pause with uncertainty about continuing onwards. They followed the grim trail until day gave way to night and then only the stars lit their path, the moon at its invisible time.

Rumplestiltskin kept Bae close, his hand at the donkey's neck, as they took the darkened and gloomy path. It was not long before they happened upon a tall stone wall and a black iron gate.

A castle lay beyond, nestled into the hillocks that surrounded it and the trees that fleshed out the landscape. It was beyond foreboding, black and shadowed, no light escaping its many arrow-slits and windows. Some of the numerous towers were knocked into pieces, and a few of the surrounding walls had large holes in them, as if something had punched through.

Bae jiggled at his side. "That must be it, Papa! We only have to rescue the girl and then get her home. We're so close!"

He shushed him. "You're forgetting the _dragon_, boy."

Bae shook his head. "I'm not. We'll just be quiet. I'm sure we can climb through one of the holes and find her."

"The castle's huge. Where would we look first?"

The donkey stared up at him as if he were truly stupid. "Have you never listened to your own bedtime stories? Where do they always put the princesses, Papa?"

Rumplestiltskin squinted in thought, looking up at the castle. "The, uh...the tower?"

"The _tallest_ tower," Bae said proudly. "Always."

Rumplestiltskin nodded and pressed his hand to the iron bar of the gate, knowing they had no better plan. "Alright. We find the tallest tower, as quietly as possible, and then we run."

Bae nodded as he tiptoed past the gate that his father held open.

The grounds of the castle were rubble-strewn, cast in gloom and moss-covered, and there was no path, to speak of, which they could tread. They made their way about the blocks of masonry, spying black marks and lost swords, and Rumplestiltskin wondered how long this dragon had been living in the castle.

So long that it stole a princess and barely a finger was lifted in rescue?

It seemed as if many a battle had been waged against the house of the beast, but the castle had not fallen. He wondered if fighting the ogres so closely and so often had brought the people of these lands a little relief when they learnt it was a single dragon plaguing them.

Rumplestiltskin could not wait until he was back home, with his _human_ son in his arms, and free to take Bae to whichever land he damn well pleased. They'd move far away, he thought. Far, far away.

Bae tried to keep quiet, but he had hooves now, not soft feet, and Rumplestiltskin winced at every clippity-clop against stone that seemed to echo in the quiet of the castle's shadow. Eventually, they reached the largest of the holes in the façade of the castle.

He could not tell whether it was the dragon that had punctured the outer wall or an assault led by men, but the gap in the crumbling stone was low enough that he only had to pull himself over the low wall, minding his leg, and then haul Baelfire up after him.

Once inside, he saw the true extent of their task.

The entrance hall was half-destroyed, much like the rest of the castle, and he could see skeletons still dressed in their battle armour littering the floor and crushed beneath the rubble. As they made to climb the staircase that was, thankfully, still in tact, he could have sworn that he saw the imprint of a knight scorched into the stone, but it must have been a trick of the light, what little of it that came through the holes above their heads at least.

They side-stepped holes and clambered over misplaced blocks of stone, and then, as the stairs widened at the top of the next floor, Rumplestiltskin saw a glimmer of hope. Craning his neck to see further past the hole in the ceiling, he saw inky blue sky and...the dimmest glow of light – a candle perhaps – past the window of a sharply-pointed tower.

"Bae." He pointed out the undamaged parapets that must have been concealed from view at the front gate. "Is that it?"

The donkey gave it a critical look, turning his head. "Yes," he concluded after a moment. "It's tall."

Making their way through another damaged wall and around, circling the staircase until they stood on the opposite side, they found a small door. It was barred with a charred wooden beam, but a bit of prying and nearly snapping his staff in two saw them pulling the beam from the door to open it enough for the both of them to slip through.

There was a staircase beyond, spiralling up around to the right, and Bae was off, up the stone steps, before Rumplestiltskin could even take another breath. He hurried off after his son's clippity-clops, mindful of not shouting after him in case it should alert the (as yet) unseen dragon to their presence.

"_Bae_," he hissed, panting, stumbling up the steps with his half-dead leg as quietly as he could. "_Bae_!"

Suddenly, he heard a noise ahead. It was soft, almost like a scuffling sound, and it sent terror deep in his belly.

Rumplestiltskin clambered up the stairs like a newborn colt, all knees and missteps and awkwardness but utterly desperate to reach his son. He came to a door, sitting half open, and pushed inside without another thought.

There, on a bed nearly as wide as the small room, was his little donkey, trying to scramble up onto the high-set bed to peer at who lay on it. Bae was too small to see, but they had found their princess.

Rumplestiltskin nearly dropped his stick at the sight of her.

She was most certainly a princess, her fine pale skin wrapped in the shining gold silk of her dress and her long brown tresses spilling in curls across a single silk pillow. Her lips were pure red and her lashes the darkest black. She was a beauty, and he had never seen a woman like her.

She looked like no girl either – no young slip of a princess – but an honest to Gods _woman_. How long had she been locked away? Or had she been widowed awfully young not to have a husband now, one that would save her from this tomb?

Bae finally managed to get his head above the thick mattress as his father continued his gawping.

"Oh," his son said, hushed. "She's pretty."

"Aye," Rumplestiltskin managed to grit out, coming to his senses. "And now we've found her, what do we do?"

"Take her and run?" Baelfire queried, fluffy head tilted, and Rumplestiltskin nodded.

He went to her then, circling the bed and standing at her side. She lay quite still, her hands folded across her stomach, and he could hardly see her breathing. Come to think of it, she was quite thin for such a noble lady, and a little drawn too...and, well, she did have a gilded chain about her bruised ankle.

It looked as though she had fought fairly hard to free herself from her imprisonment, but to no avail.

"She's not waking up," Bae said, nudging her elbow, and then suddenly gasped. "Papa! I know what you have to do!"

His son's voice, too loud, carried about the circular room, and a rumble began, shaking the very tower in which they stood. The candle below the window snuffed out unexpectedly, and an eerie moaning began to drift up, from the bowels of the castle.

His boy had the grace to look sheepish. "Oops."

Rumplestiltskin, purpose renewed, took the woman's ankle and shook it, urging her to awake from her slumber. But she did not wake.

Bae shifted closer, hooves propped against the bed. "_Papa_," he breathed. "You have to _kiss_ her."

Noises not from a human's lips resounded beneath and around them, growing louder as the rumbling of the masonry took on a life of its own and began to grind noisily. There was no doubt in the spinner's mind that an angry and awoken dragon was on its way.

"Don't be silly, Bae," he said, loath to do much else to the princess other than shake her and tug at her chains. "What would that do?"

"You're her _rescuer_," he insisted, as his father tried to no avail to find the source of the chain about her foot. "It's in all the stories! The hero kisses the princess and then she awakens!"

"That's True Love's Kiss," he muttered, a hint of bitterness to his tone even as he struggled with the lady's delicate, slippered foot. "Made for the likes of princes, not spinners. I'm not a hero from one of the stories, son. This is different."

"How is it?" His stubborn boy went on, even as clear and thundering footfalls could be heard beneath them. "You're _her_ hero! Kiss her and we can leave!"

Rumplestiltskin could not find the end of the chain that led somewhere beneath the bed, nor would the fair princess awaken, and his son...bless him, but he was drawing the beast nearer.

The lowly spinner went to the head of the bed and looked down at the woman, swallowing as he took her slim, naked shoulder in hand and shook it, reluctant to even do that much with the woman so far above his own station.

But his son's steady gaze would not be quelled, and, licking his trembling lips, Rumplestiltskin bent his head to hers. He was sure the fact of it being a peasant kissing her lush, reddened lips was far more likely to awaken the maiden than True Love's Kiss.

His eyes remained open, observing every inch of her unmoving face, as he quickly and barely pressed his lips to hers. Her lips were warmer than the rest of her, alive with the barest flutter of breath, and when Rumplestiltskin drew back to ask Bae if he was satisfied, those lips parted.

As the tower suddenly rocked, Rumplestiltskin standing by looking stupid and dazed, the princess' eyes sprung open to reveal wide blue orbs. She heaved a sudden gasp and sat bolt upright, eyes flying about the tower room to land on the donkey at her bedside.

She drew breath, and, afraid she would scream, Rumplestiltskin pressed his hand to her mouth. Her blue eyes found him, but she did not move, did not thrash or yell, and it seemed as though she was giving him the chance to speak.

He pressed a trembling finger to his lips for her to keep quiet, and then pointed at the open door behind them. She slowly nodded, and he drew back his hand as quick as anything.

Rumplestiltskin grasped his staff and tugged at Bae's fur, urging him out of the door and down the stairs. Turning around to help the princess with her bonds, he near jumped out of his skin when she stood not an inch behind him, her golden chains nowhere to be seen.

Not one to question good luck – especially as a particularly horrifying roar rang out at the same moment – he propelled the both of them down the stairs after Bae. Once at the bottom, Bae at his side once more, they found their path blocked by more than just rubble.

A tail, long and thick and red, sat outside the doorway, with the black spines atop the ridge of it pointing up like a cat's hackles. Rumplestiltskin swallowed at the sight of the glistening scales, wide-eyed as he took in the sheer _size _of the tail.

It seemed about as long as the hallway on which the door opened out on, about as long as the stairs they had climbed in the front hall, and he dreaded to wonder how long this made the actual beast.

Sweat springing to his forehead, Rumplestiltskin nudged himself and Bae out of the door. He urged his son around, past the blackened and petrified beam, and looked right, down the hallway, to see the thickening tail curling out of sight through an enormous hole in the castle wall.

He wondered if the beast was looking into the empty tower this very second as he unthinkingly took the princess' hand in his and silently took them all about the end of the creature's tail.

The thing swished unexpectedly, but despite his less-than-nimble footing they all managed to evade the limb.

But then a howl went up, ringing in Rumplestiltskin's ears, and the tail _thwipped_ out of sight. A flapping could be heard – _whum_, _whum_, _whum_ – and he knew the monster had taken to the skies.

They ran as fast as he was able, flying over rubble and stone, the princess panting in his ear as she began tugging him forward, much faster than he with his lame leg. Bae cantered at his side as more howling echoed, dogging their steps as they passed through the blown-out walls and down the stairs.

And then he heard it, the thing he had dreaded most about the task – _fire_.

It was like no other sound – so loud and yet unobtrusive, like turning your head a certain way in a gusting wind so you could only _feel_ its power. It rumbled as the beast roared, and then light spewed down the hall at their back and he promptly tripped.

A clatter was all it took. His staff, meeting the ground, rang in the sudden quiet like thunder, and then the wings and fire were coming closer, until he could see actual flames past one of the broken walls and then...teeth. So many teeth.

But it was not his own legs that carried him, nor the little ones of his son – the princess grasped him from his terror and hauled his arm about her shoulders so as to better drag him up and towards the hole they had entered the ruin through.

Bae struggled, but the worn-looking princess was there again, with swift hands and urgent motions, pulling them both out onto the moss and stone with the strength Rumplestiltskin seemed unable to find after seeing just a glimpse of the chasing beast.

"_Hurry_!" She huffed, making up for his fumbling feet as they chased across the ruined grounds. "Don't look back!"

He didn't look back. Not even when he heard the beast above them, flapping its wings and screaming like a banshee as the princess' dress caught and tore while she ran them towards the gate.

Thundering fire and footsteps followed their path, but they reached the gate even as the night sky flamed red and orange.

She took them into the trees, pushing them through the thorns and brush as heat blazed behind them, thick and heavy, and the trees caught fire. He clutched a handful of Bae's fur, keeping him close as the fire spread above their heads, even as they ran.

There was no escape from the wood, and the clear path of the dragon that they had followed earlier would be of no use. They would have been easy pickings. But the princess was more than she looked – she was leading them somewhere in particular.

All of a sudden, they came to a great rock. Flat, it looked out over a sheer drop into a dark pool. There was no way to tell whether there were rocks at the bottom, nor whether the river that fed it kept it deep enough to break the fall. There was only urgency and panic, and the choice between certain or possible death.

Bae leapt first, with all his bravery and his youth, and Rumplestiltskin had no choice but to follow after his boy, the princess' fingers gripped in his as she fell with him.

The sky blazed overhead, scorching the back of Rumplestiltskin's outstretched left hand, and then he knew only cold, hard water.

* * *

When Belle dragged the unconscious man out of the pool, the small donkey was there to help her, biting at the sodden clothes and tugging for all it was worth.

At first, she was disturbed by the animal's plaintive cries for its father, but she knew how to recognise a curse.

Once on the shore, she turned the man onto his back and pushed the dark wet hair out of his closed eyes. She touched the pulse in his neck, feeling it flutter beneath her fingertips, and then held her palm to his mouth, feeling breath there.

"It's alright," she said, eyes finding the small donkey's. "He's alive."

The animal promptly buried his face into her stomach. "_Thank you_."

She stroked its – _his_ – soft fur, feeling a bit bemused. "_You_ saved me. It's I who should be thanking you."

He pulled back and looked up at her. "You saved me and Papa, too."

Belle smiled, though it felt weary and confused. "Does your papa have a name? What's yours?"

"I'm Baelfire," the donkey said, dropping unceremoniously onto his backside by his father. "And my papa is Rumplestiltskin."

She blinked at the mouthful but nodded, crouching on her heels to check this Rumplestiltskin for injuries. Besides a swift burn across his hand, he seemed in fair condition, much like Bae and herself. Though all a little waterlogged, they were whole and relatively unharmed when it came to the Avonlea dragon.

Belle glanced up at the high rock-face, the peak of which stood far above the pool of collected falling water. There was fire and smoke in the sky from the burning trees, but no dragon. They were lucky she had remembered the water from when the dragon had flown her to the castle, caught in its cradle of black claws and staring down at the land as it passed by so very quickly.

She sighed and almost missed Baelfire's question.

"What's your name?"

She looked back down to find the donkey was watching her with terribly human eyes.

"Belle. My name's Belle."

"Belle the princess." He nodded. "That's a good name for a princess."

She laughed. "Why, thank you."

It was then that the unconscious man between them groaned, shifting against the pebbles of the rocky shore but moving no more. Belle glanced at his face, at the lack of the lines that had etched it in the castle, and wondered how he had saved her.

She wasn't ungrateful, nor in disbelief – just..._curious_. She had tried to free herself from that room a hundred times before her captor had weaved some kind of magic over her, rendering her tired and drowsy, unable to stop herself from ultimately falling asleep.

The chains had been unbreakable, and when she had tried to follow them beneath the bed, she had found only dust and shadows. How did the man save her, then, and in what had seemed to be an enormous rush?

She stared down at his face for a longer moment, watching the dying fire above them light his features, and she knew she owed him her life. She thanked him with an unconscious smile and a press of her hand to his slightly scratchy cheek.

Belle looked up at Baelfire. "Help me get him up? We'll find some shelter in the forest while he sleeps."

Together, they managed to pull Rumplestiltskin up into Belle's unsteady hold. Her strength had fled her a little, and even Baelfire's tugs and pushes were of great help to her, though he could do little more.

She managed to wrap Rumplestiltskin's arm about her shoulder once more and haul him against her side, dragging his feet along as she stumbled them both into the shelter of the trees.

Baelfire trotted ahead, carving them a path through the brush as she huffed and puffed at his father's weight on her side. After a few minutes, she found she couldn't carry the man much further, but, soldiering on, a few more moments saw them in the presence of a large tree, the branches wide and low enough to offer good shelter and surrounded by soft grass.

Belle lay the man there, at the base of the tree, propped against the trunk, and watched as his head rolled on his shoulders. Baelfire went to him and sat at his legs, looking every inch the loyal steed.

She stood there a moment, aware of the cold and the dark, before announcing, "I'm going to get firewood. I'll be back soon, Baelfire."

He looked up at her, dark eyes wide, and gave a slow nod. "Alright, Belle."

It was only as she left the tree to search for dry twigs and leaves that she thought about running. She realised she could leave – the man and his cursed son alive – and go wherever she wanted to, without a single soul to follow her.

* * *

There was a hollow pounding in Rumplestiltskin's head, an ache threading through his body, and a familiar twinge in his right leg that he knew meant there would be hell to pay if he tried to use it any time soon.

But above all the bodily pain, there was a familiar voice and a nagging sensation that he had something important to see to.

Blinking, blearily glancing up, he saw Bae's hazel eyes staring right back and promptly remembered. "The princess?"

"Right here," a soft voice came, and Bae moved back a couple of inches for Rumplestiltskin to look past and see the crouched and bedraggled woman stoking a small fire near his feet with a damply smouldering branch.

"This is Belle, Papa," Bae said.

Rumplestiltskin tried to sit up and gain his bearings, but he was wet and cold and his back ached with the kind of pain he hadn't felt in a while.

"I'm too old for adventures," he muttered to his son, and was surprised when a soft and tinkling laugh came instead of Bae's _hee-haw_.

"I think you did just fine," Princess Belle assured him, throwing a smile over her slender shoulder. "I've seen younger men try and fail at far simpler tasks."

He watched, trying to quash his wariness, as the woman brought the fire to a good height, before delicately moving back and seating herself near him in the grass. Her fine golden dress was torn, her legs scratched and marked, but she wore a placid expression and her lips conveyed a gentle smile.

The memory of her kiss turned his ears hot, and he promptly looked away, into the fire, before he could remember anything else.

Bae's long ears perked up. "Belle was just telling me about the dragon."

"Oh, yes?"

Belle smoothed out her skirts as she spoke. "The ogres tore down our castle's outer defences and my father sent me away, to keep me safe. The dragon pillaged our caravan a day out, and he took me as his prize. They can be quite crafty, you know. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he helped the ogres."

Belle glanced up from the merry fire at Rumplestiltskin's silence. She watched him for a moment, while he watched her, and it seemed as if the seconds would never end.

Why hadn't she run while he was unconscious? Why was she telling them this story? Why did she smile at them as if they were far more than a peasant and his head-strong boy?

"Thank you, by the way," she said, looking into his eyes. "For saving me. I tried to rescue myself when no one came, but it seemed I just...needed a little help."

The last was said with such a searching look that Rumplestiltskin quite forgot what they were talking about. She really did have beautiful eyes, like the sea. He was sure Hordor would not quite appreciate that to its fullest.

"You're welcome," he eventually managed, and then there was quiet, except for the crackling of the fire as their clothes dried in the warmth of the flames.

* * *

The morning came with the scent of food, waking Rumplestiltskin from his slumber with a jolt as his empty stomach groaned hungrily.

He blinked to see Belle at the still-burning fire, cooking wild mushrooms as the sun rose through the trees. He watched her warily, checking the colour of the fungi on the roasting sticks in case she was about to unknowingly attempt to kill them all.

"Don't worry," the princess said, without turning around. "They're not poisonous."

Appeased, Rumplestiltskin stared at her back, only just noticing the way she was curled in on herself, in her lovely dress, looking like the fire was doing little to keep her warm on the cool morn.

Shifting, Rumplestiltskin drew off his cloak and made to move towards her. Gently – so gently, he hardly touched her – he placed the rough material about her bare shoulders, ignoring the dip at the front of the dress and what he could glimpse below as he knelt behind her.

She turned her head, her curls spilling over her shoulders, and gave a soft and slow smile.

"Thank you." Her lips barely moved. "Rumplestiltskin."

His sudden chivalry, unexpectedly rewarded, made him warm right through, and he was a little dazed as he took a stick of shrunken and darkened mushrooms from Belle's proffered grasp. Bae trotted up then, to sit by the fire and chew over Belle's offerings, and the quiet gave Rumplestiltskin much needed time to think.

They hadn't any rations left, but they had a little coin. He and Bae hadn't tried to go into the towns they had passed, for fear of attracting the wrong sort of attention, and he was still loath to do so now, especially with a princess in their little group.

But he was sure they could survive off of the forest's offerings and, if needs must, he could leave them in the safety of the trees while he bought supplies in a town.

Rumplestiltskin watched Belle from the corner of his eye. He was wary of her kindness, but even more so of her contentment to be with them.

When the mushrooms were gone and Belle announced she had managed to scrounge up some red berries, he decided it was time to...lay down the law.

"My Lady," Rumplestiltskin began, but was promptly interrupted.

"Belle. Please, call me Belle."

"Belle," he said, trying not to trip over his words as she looked at him. "We will be taking you to my homeland, north of here, to meet with Duke Hordor."

Belle was frowning. "And who is he?"

"The man who sent us. The man you are to marry."

Her expression was one of utmost confusion. She looked between him and his lad, the crease between her brows deepening, and took a deep breath.

"If I marry it is because _I _wish it," she said plainly. "I don't know this..._Hordor_, but if he wanted to marry me he should have come himself. I will honour _your_ bravery, not his word."

Rumplestiltskin froze, staring at her. "What do you mean, honour my bravery?"

"My hand," she said, blue eyes deathly sincere. "You won it. Not your duke."

Bae stared up between the two of them, as confused-looking as Rumplestiltskin felt, because she couldn't mean...could she?

"I don't understand," he near-sputtered. "I rescued you at the Duke's behest. When we take you back to him, he will turn my son into a boy again and let us leave. For good. I didn't do it to have you marry _me_."

Her eyes flicked to Bae, with his fluffy face and twitching tail. "I see."

They were quiet for a long moment, but the tense silence was broken by Belle's gentle pat to Bae's neck and her sure smile.

"I will meet with this Hordor, as payment for your rescue, and I will see that your son is free," Belle told him.

Rumplestiltskin nearly wept with relief, before she spoke again.

"But I will not marry him. I'm sure, if I explain, he will see reason."

He paused, glancing up at her to see if she was joking. She so very plainly wasn't.

"But you _must_ marry him," Rumplestiltskin pleaded, edging nearer to her. "If you don't..."

Belle lifted a careful eyebrow. "I choose my own destiny. I decided to grant you your wish, and I have. You want your son free and I'll see to it, but I'll not tie myself to a man too proud to mount his own rescue. There's no bravery or sacrifice in commanding others to a dragon's keep."

He had nothing left to say. She had said she would secure Bae's freedom, and he believed her. He did not tell her the type of man the Duke was, nor his reservations about Hordor letting Bae go in the first place, let alone giving him freedom without receiving his bride in return.

Rumplestiltskin would ensure that nothing went awry – for his son, at least – and all he need do was wait.

* * *

The trip back was arduous at best.

They had to stop often and lingeringly, mostly due to Rumplestiltskin's leg and lack of a walking stick. The sheer drop and awkward entry into the reservoir had renewed old pains and birthed new ones, and Belle did not have the strength to keep him upright as often as he needed it.

Three days' journey turned into six, at least, and it was on the second day, after consuming nothing but half an apple and a mouthful of water, that he truly began to wonder if going back was the best thing.

Weren't there other sorcerers who could help Bae? Couldn't they run and never look back?

But no, Rumplestiltskin knew deep in his tired bones that the Dark One's power was unmatched. If he meant to turn a boy into a donkey, then that boy would stay that way.

Rumplestiltskin just felt useless, like they were walking into a snare they had no hope of cutting themselves out of, and the weather wasn't helping at all, the cold and rain cutting him to his aching core.

Bae, bless him, was brave, and Belle...well, Rumplestiltskin didn't know how a princess coped so well out in the cruel and unforgiving world, but, he supposed, it had something to do with being locked up in a dragon's tower for he didn't know how long.

She scavenged when he couldn't, and she was quite careful about keeping his borrowed hood up about her face when they had to use the road and pass curious strangers by.

It was the fourth day that saw them hungry, near starving, and Belle volunteered to go into the town at the bottom of the hill on which they were encamped in the thick of the trees.

Rumplestiltskin sat up straighter at her suggestion, pressing his sore back into the soft bark of the tree he sat against, and looked Belle in the eye. They had come to an easy, _silent_ understanding with each other in the days that had passed, and while he understood that she didn't want to be forced into marriage, he didn't want her jeopardising their chances of making it back to the Duke's domain.

He knew she understood what could happen in town if someone recognised her, or something far worse, and that he and Bae would be left in their mess, but...he worried for her. She was kind, he had learnt, and understanding, and he had come to wish her happiness.

She was far too good for the likes of Hordor – far too good for the like of _many _men – and, most certainly, far too good for the likes of him.

Sometimes, when she and Bae were asleep around the fire and he could not close his eyes, he thought about her telling him she would marry him. She had said she chose her own fate, but that she would also not be forced into marriage. Did she truly see marrying him as not so terrible a future?

He stared at her as she stood in his cloak and waited for his support of her idea. She, he dimly realised, would not put his son's freedom at risk without his approval, even to fill her own belly.

Yes, he thought, far too good for the likes of the Duke and himself.

She hadn't run, she had helped, and here she was, waiting on his word. She was like no noble or royal he had ever heard of, and it put a cold feeling in his belly that he was practically selling this woman to Hordor.

She didn't deserve her fate, but neither did Bae.

Rumplestiltskin took the purse from his hip and held it out to her, unashamed of how little rested inside. She knew how poor he was, how wretched, and still she stayed and helped and lent him her shoulder to lean on when they walked.

Belle blinked at the gesture, obviously expecting to be given a coin and nothing more, and took the pouch with a faint smile. She bent to Bae at Rumplestiltskin's side and stroked a gentle hand through his long fur.

"I'll be back, Baelfire. Don't you worry."

The boy was quiet, tired and hungry, but he nudged Belle's palm nonetheless. Rumplestiltskin knew Bae to be half in love with the princess.

She surprised the spinner once more, bending to press a soft kiss to his temple and push a hand through his bedraggled hair. She watched him with those too-blue eyes, and he could do nothing more than return her gaze in kind.

Her voice, when it came, was a whisper. "You're a good man, Rumplestiltskin."

And then she was gone, covering her dirtied dress with his ragged cloak and darting out of sight down the hill.

Rumplestiltskin tried not to let the spot she had kissed burn, but it did nonetheless, pleasantly searing. He combed his fingers through Bae's fluff, strangling the tiny voice inside of him that said she was never coming back.

She had his money, along with every last shred of hope he held for his son, but she would be back. Her kiss was not of goodbye, he knew. It was of thanks.

* * *

By the time Belle returned, it was nightfall.

The set sun had left the ground dry and soft, and it quietened her approach as she climbed the path of the hill and disappeared between the trees. She dodged a stray tree root or two, careful with the goods in her small burlap sack, and slowly came upon the encampment she and Rumplestiltskin had chosen for the night.

Belle paused as she finally saw the man and his cursed son between the trees, stopping at a wide tree and staying in its shadow. Rumplestiltskin had lit a small fire, and Bae was feeding the flames with dry twigs as his father sorted the rations they had left.

He cut the last apple and gave his son the largest half. He put the other piece safely aside.

"Aren't you hungry, Papa?" The donkey asked between mouthfuls.

Rumplestiltskin gave him a soft smile. "For Belle, when she comes back."

She smiled behind the tree, hiding her warm face in the cloak that smelt ever so slightly of campfire and him. He expected her to come back – no, not expected, but _knew _she would. He had faith in her not to desert them, and that was one reason why she had not.

Rumplestiltskin was a good man, with a good heart and a kind soul. He loved his son, had faced a _dragon_ for the boy, and he would fight for him until his last breath, she knew. He did not seek to control her, to claim dominion over her the way so many others had – even though she had _offered_ herself to him, informing him of his prize – and so she would help him, with all her might.

Her father had taught her the value of loyalty, her mother the value of honour, but it was her own heart – her own _advice_ – that had helped her make the decision to see this to the end, to give Rumplestiltskin his happiness.

He looked up then, eyes glancing about in the gloom, but he could not see her and he...he looked troubled. Somehow, she knew the concern wasn't for himself or Bae, but her.

She wondered absently, fingers curled about the sack of food in her grasp, if this was what love felt like.

Perhaps not _True_ Love, but she admired him nonetheless, felt affection for his soft ways, and she was fond of his true heart. She had never thought of love beyond stories and tales, as some abstract concept that might happen in a future were there no wars and she was free to choose as she saw fit.

She had never thought of love as this: a happenstance, between two so wholly unconnected people. She would never have met him if she hadn't been abducted and he hadn't taken his duke's deal.

Could it rightly be called love if they were an accident, a simple twist of fate? She thought...it could.

There couldn't possibly be a recipe, not when there were so many people in the world, all in love, all made up of so many different ingredients. Perhaps every pair needed time to grow and a little care and attention, but surely anyone could fall in love, with anyone else, if given the right circumstances.

Belle thought, as she watched Rumplestiltskin stoke the fire and talk with his son, that they did not have the right circumstances. There was a sadness about him that told her he did not expect to see her ever again once Bae was un-cursed and Duke Hordor appeased.

She wondered if it was because Hordor was not to be appeased with her words and promises of recompense, or if it was because Rumplestiltskin thought that once her oath to him was fulfilled she would not stay. Perhaps it was both.

Belle watched the man look about again, peering through the trees for her, and decided she had lingered long enough. When she approached, letting her step be heard, she saw his eyes snap to her appearing figure and a faint smile curl about his face.

"Belle!" Bae greeted enthusiastically, but still less so than his normal self.

She smiled at him as she approached and circled the fire. "I hope you've still an appetite, Master Baelfire."

They laughed and shared the bread and cheese she had bargained for, along with the onions and leeks. Rumplestiltskin only raised an eyebrow when she handed his purse back to him, money near-untouched.

"A smile and a kind word," she said, slicing the onion and leek with his paring knife, "are the very best kind of weapons to have at one's disposal. Remember that Bae."

The little donkey nodded in rapt attention, practically salivating as she began to roast the vegetables on propped-up sticks over the smoking fire. Rumplestiltskin cut the bread and the cheese, a soft and strange look on his face as he did so, and Belle wondered where his thoughts were residing.

They ate and talked, laughing over Belle's tale of the little town where the men and women of the market were more than happy to help the out-of-town lady looking for tonight's supper.

Once they were full on their sudden boon, Rumplestiltskin sent Bae to bed with a well-disguised look that Belle was only just beginning to recognise.

The donkey looked from his father, to Belle, and then came to her side to nudge her goodnight. He butted his head softly against her side and she held him close for a moment.

"Night, Bae," she murmured and he trotted to the other side of the fire to curl up and fall asleep.

She and Rumplestiltskin sat for a moment, silent and thoughtful, until Baelfire's snores were audible. He turned to her then, slowly, eyes soft and full of something Belle had yet to put a name to.

For a moment, he looked like he might thank her. Or kiss her. She had no idea which. Then he closed his mouth and simply smiled, glancing down as he reached out a steady hand to grasp hers in her lap.

His hands were not much larger than hers, roughened with life and trade, but they were warm and comforting, and as she looked up into his gaze she found a single shred of bravery inside of her.

She pressed her lips to his.

It was not a passionate kiss, but neither was it cold. His lips were surprisingly soft, and warm, and after the longest moment, she felt her eyes slip gently shut at the warmth growing in her belly.

He kissed her back, and his breath stuttered against her lips so gently, she hardly felt it. A noise rose in his throat, quiet and shy, and she felt such utter affection for him...such _love_, that she could only kiss him more fiercely, until her lungs screamed for sweet breath.

Belle opened her eyes as she pulled back to draw air, finding Rumplestiltskin eyes to be closed and his brow drawn taut and high, almost as if in concern. His lips parted for breath as he licked them, before opening his eyes to glance at her.

For a moment, he looked hunted.

But then the longest and sweetest smile crept across his face, crinkling his eyes, and Belle couldn't help but watch as it unfolded itself.

The crickets chirped around them and a soft breeze soundlessly blew through the trees, and it was beautiful.

* * *

The kiss was not mentioned the next day, nor the day after.

Even as they walked a road that Rumplestiltskin knew, with Bae trotting ahead and them trailing behind side-by-side, they did not talk about it.

There were secret smiles though, and soft expressions that made his ears hot. There were touches too – small and special – and he savoured every one of them.

He savoured them, not just because they were meaningful and she had grown dear to him, but because he knew they would soon be gone. She would leave or marry Hordor, and either way she would never see him again, never smile and brush his hand or look at him from the corner of her eye when she thought he couldn't see.

It was sad, but it was beautiful, too.

* * *

The day came and went, and Rumplestiltskin knew that the next day would see them into Hordor's lands and clutches.

They camped in the woods, at the ruin of an old mill house, and enjoyed more of the bread and cheese as they told stories about the future.

Belle was quiet, listening to every word Bae had to say on the matter. The boy wanted to be brave – a soldier, or a knight – and he wanted to make his fortune in foreign lands with his father, like in all the stories he had heard.

Rumplestiltskin smiled wistfully, knowing that if they could eventually leave their homeland then perhaps he could bargain, beg and borrow that future for his son. Perhaps he could give Bae everything.

He glanced at the woman who had made it all possible and found her staring into the fire.

Rumplestiltskin gave Bae a meaningful look and the donkey acquiesced, murmuring his goodnights before clambering inside the shelter of the house to sleep.

They were quiet for a fair few moments, taking in the moonlight and the fire as the nocturnal animals of the forest all went about their business around them. It was peaceful, and he felt almost possessive of this time together, knowing it would run its course and leave him empty-handed.

"Did you hear?" Belle asked all of a sudden. "The thing Baelfire said?"

Rumplestiltskin looked at her, admiring the auburn glow of her mussed curls in the fireside light. "About Agrabah?"

Her blue eyes met his. "No, about _me_."

He shook his head, suddenly aware that his distraction and wistfulness had led him to cease listening to Bae's plans.

"He said he's going to enjoy seeing the world with me," she muttered, sounding wretched, and Rumplestiltskin reached out a hand to touch Belle's cold fingers.

"You could, you know – come see the world with us," he found himself saying. "If we ever get away from here."

She smiled, gripping his hand in hers. "I think we both know that won't happen. If Hordor doesn't try to keep me, then my father might when I have to send word to him."

Rumplestiltskin nodded, trying not to feel too bitter. He had known this would be the outcome.

"I love my father," she told him softly. "Very much. But I don't want to be cooped up forever. I want my own adventure, my own _story_."

He felt a ghost of a smile cross his lips. "Just like Bae."

"Yes." She laughed, glancing back at the house before turning to him again. "But with one difference."

And then she had suddenly moved closer to him on the grass, and her lips were pressed to his, and Rumplestiltskin could only wonder what he had ever done to deserve the affections of this woman.

This was not gratitude for rescue. This was not seeking out pleasures before being imprisoned once more.

The kiss spoke to him, so deeply he hardly dared look, and it was warm and right and all the things that other kisses had never been. It spoke of _potential_.

His hands, with a mind of their own, travelled the soft lengths of her arms, to her elbows where his fingers curled and made Belle sigh. She pressed herself closer to him, soft and warm, and kissed him harder.

There was not a breath between their lips, as he sought to tilt his head and kiss her more deeply, to try and make her feel what he felt. All of it.

Her fingers found his neck, weaving through the hair at his nape, and he was no longer a poor, unworthy spinner with a beautiful, damaged princess in his arms. He was just a man, a man with passion and..._love_, and he wanted Belle.

Nervous and delicate, the softness of her tongue met his lips, and he would defy any man who said they could have resisted.

Her breath was sweet when he opened his lips to her, her mouth warm, and her cool, silken skin beneath his rough fingers felt like his final undoing.

But he could not be undone this night.

Rumplestiltskin pulled away, pressing his forehead to hers and damning everything that was stacked against them. He opened his eyes to find hers looking so bright, as she peered at him beneath her black lashes.

She smiled and stroked his face with her soft palm, saying nothing. The sadness in her eyes betrayed it all.

They propped themselves against the crumbled stone wall of the house, keeping their feet close to the fire as they covered themselves both with his cloak. He slipped his arm about her shoulders, and she leant into him with a smile.

"What was the difference?" Rumplestiltskin asked Belle.

She turned her face into his chest. "Bae's still looking for his adventure. I know what mine would have been."

He closed his eyes and bit back the pain, pressing a shaky kiss to her crown. They would think of something – _he_ would think of something, and all would be well.

Rumplestiltskin listened to Belle's breathing as he tried to convince himself he wasn't already in mourning.

* * *

A dull pounding awoke him, that pounding being in his head, and for a moment he wondered if the journey home had all been a dream and he, in fact, was only just now waking up from the fall into the water pool.

But no, he was dry, and it was warm, and every memory of Belle was as clear as the pain in his skull.

He tried to open his eyes, but they were heavy. His limbs felt useless, like they weren't really there, and then he heard something, through the din in his head.

"Calm yourself, boy. He's alive."

Rumplestiltskin groaned, trying to move in the face of a stranger and...Bae. Where was _Bae_?

"Papa? Papa, please wake up. They've taken Belle. _Papa_."

He licked his dry lips, attempting to blink, and found a picture coming into view. Hazy and shadowed, he eventually recognised his boy – an actual _boy_ – and then saw the hooded figure of the stranger.

"Bae," Rumplestiltskin groaned. "Bae, get back."

There was no way of confusing the strange man with anyone other than the Dark One. There was an aura to him, of power and strength and _pain_, and it turned Rumplestiltskin's skin to gooseflesh.

The sorcerer stepped forward and Rumplestiltskin could make out his almost feral grin.

"What, no thank you? Your son's no longer an ass, you're free to go, and you've had a burden lifted from your hands."

"_Belle_," Rumplestiltskin gritted out, against his better judgement, "is not a burden."

The creature smiled, showing grey teeth, and said, "Ah, I see. Love. Well, _I _can help you there."

Rumplestiltskin's vision became clearer, and he glanced about to find he was sprawled across the soft and dewy grass by the mill house wall where he and Belle had fallen asleep. His peasant cloak lay forgotten at his feet, strewn across the grass, with muddy boot prints across it.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat. It was obvious that Hordor would not be dealt or spoken with.

Bae came to his side, dressed as he had been the night of his curse, and threw his arms about his father's neck.

"I hid when they came, Papa. I didn't know what else to do. I woke up and they'd already knocked you out cold, and Belle was trying to talk to the Duke, but he told her he wanted a bride, not a nag."

Rumplestiltskin's blood boiled.

Bae carried on. "He said that her father was dead from the ogres and the only way to release us was by marrying him. Today. She went on the back of his horse."

"A lie, of course," the Dark One said from beneath his hood, drawing the gaze of the spinner and his son. "King Maurice is quite well. His armies have only now beaten back the ogres to the creatures' own lands. In fact, I'm sure the king will soon be mounting his own rescue of his daughter, only to find her already gone."

Rumplestiltskin gathered his wits for a moment, but even then he was at a loss for what to do. He would save her, that much was certain, but he would not risk his boy. He was torn.

The Dark One stood above the spinner in his peasant garb. "You would save the girl, if you could be certain of your son's safety?"

He looked up at the sorcerer, holding his son close. "Aye."

"Good." The Dark One grinned. "Go, save the girl, and I will keep your son safe."

Rumplestiltskin swallowed back his retort, but the Dark One saw all.

"Not much safer, you think?" The sorcerer laughed. "But I will protect him, _and_ aid your rescue of the princess. In return, when you enter Hordor's castle, you will take something for me. A knife, probably sequestered in one of his private rooms."

"Why can't you–"

"He forbid me to enter the grounds of his castle," the Dark One spat. "Take it and bring it to me. You will have your son and your princess. But, should you try to cross me..."

Rumplestiltskin glanced at his son. Baelfire _smiled_.

"I'll be good," his boy said, grinning. "Go save Belle."

"Alright." Rumplestiltskin looked back up at the grinning creature. "How do I do it?"

* * *

Belle stared down at the golden gown in her hands, feeling the tears in the silk and the roughness of the corset where it had worn near to the bones.

She was beyond furious at the treatment given her by the Duke, the rough and unmannered man who had all but thrown her across his horse. He had demanded an immediate ceremony, as soon as she was _presentable_, and had left her to bathe and change in what he had called her rooms.

It was a prison cell, nothing more. The door had been locked behind her, and the only window in the room was an arrow-slit no wider than her hand. The floor was cold, the bed undressed, and the luxury of the room culminated in the wooden bathtub filled with cold water.

Belle had made her decision when faced with the gruffly-delivered news of her father's demise and Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire's fate. She had chosen to save the last two men in her life, and it was a decision easily but not lightly made.

She would not, however, conform to this duke's schedule. She would take her time, bathe and dress as she would, and she resolved to make his life incredibly difficult.

Belle slipped into the freezing water, suddenly grateful for even the _chance_ to bathe, and began to wash the road and forest from her skin. Her cuts were healing, and she thought about Rumplestiltskin's burn as she cleansed herself.

She hoped he would take care of it, keep it clean and wash it often, and she also hoped that he and Bae were running, as far and as fast as their legs could take them. In her most secret of hearts, she wished for more – she wished for rescue and happiness and her _father_ – but her greatest hope was for the two of them, to be safe.

Belle was loath to wash her hands, her elbows, her face – anywhere sweet Rumplestiltskin had touched her – but she had to bathe, and the memories of those touches were enough of a reminder if she couldn't keep him on her skin.

It was just as she was about to dip her hair that she heard a commotion outside of her room, and, peering over the edge of the tub, she watched the door.

There was muffled shouting and hurried footsteps, and then, slowly the din tapered off and there was closed-off quiet once more.

And then the door rattled.

Frozen, she listened as a key turned in the door and watched as it swung open to reveal the back of a man dragging something into her room.

She came to her senses and covered herself as best she could, ready to tear the intruder apart should he come any closer, when he turned and Rumplestiltskin's soft, dark eyes met hers.

Belle stared at him in his soldier's garb, before glancing down at the heavy load in his arms to see none other than Hordor, unconscious and snoring with a prominent bruise on his forehead.

"_Belle_."

She glanced up, still staring. "Why aren't you the next town over by now?"

He swiftly dropped the Duke to the unforgiving floor with a heavy thud, before shutting the door and making his way over to her. It was then – going wide-eyed and red in the face – he finally realised she was in the bath.

She pointed as he stammered and averted his eyes. "Pass me the gown, there on the bed."

He did so quickly, and she couldn't hide her smile as she took her would-be wedding gown in-hand and stepped from the bath to climb into it, still wet. There weren't many fastenings to speak of, and all of them ones she could combat on her own, and it was only really a moment later that she was turning Rumplestiltskin around to face her and to kiss him.

He moaned at the touch of her lips, his hands finding her waist, and his kiss was full of relief and pain. Once they were breathless, their lips parted and he smiled.

"I'm here to rescue you again," he told her in a whisper. "Help me?"

Belle couldn't help but grin. "I did the first time."

They parted so he could lift Hordor to the bed and throw him there, and it was only then that Belle realised his strength had increased and his limp had vanished.

"Rumplestiltskin?"

He glanced to her and then followed the line of her pointing finger. He gave her a faint smile.

"The Dark One," Rumplestiltskin said. "He's helping me."

Belle blinked. "Why?"

"For a price," he told her, taking her golden dress from beside the tub. "He wanted something the Duke had."

"Had?" She queried, and he flashed her a glimpse of silver at his belt. "A blade?"

He nodded, moving back towards Hordor on the bed, and then did the strangest thing. Scrunching the dress, Rumplestiltskin tugged the Duke's head from the bed and tugged the loosened gown about his neck, before pulling the ruined skirts down about his shoulders.

"Is this how you bind a prisoner in these lands?" She asked, confused, but amused too.

Rumplestiltskin smiled as he drew back from the man. "It's how you bait a dragon."

And then, from nowhere, the castle rumbled and the air was filled with the yells of men and the infuriated screech of a dragon.

Belle ran to the arrow-slit to see the beast she had been carried off by at the castle's outer wall, scaling the defences as if they were but the tiniest pebbles in its path. Rumplestiltskin joined her there, at the window, and promptly urged her away.

"We have to be quick," he said, pulling her towards the door. "The Dark One said the dragon probably wanted your dress rather than _you_. Let's hope he's right."

They ran, down hallways and corridors that Belle had not travelled on the way into the castle, and she followed Rumplestiltskin's every step as she listened to the dragon's breath blaze somewhere far behind them.

He led her down a staircase, through the swiftly emptying kitchens, and they followed the castle's panicking staff as they ran for the servant's entrance. Amidst the urgency and the panic, they fled the castle's walls and reached a grassy plain beyond.

Belle did not look back, and neither Rumplestiltskin, even as the screeches of the dragon did not abate and the castle's stones fell beneath the beast's claws and flames. But when they reached a paddock fence, far from the castle, and she could hear no more fire and screams, she chanced a glance back.

Far above the fleeing men and women, running from the castle across the green pasture, a dragon reared up on its mighty crimson wings and ascended towards the soft clouds rolling overhead, something unmistakeably weighty and shining in tow.

* * *

The arranged meeting place was a hill across the fields from the castle, and as Belle and Rumplestiltskin approached it, climbing the grassy knoll with stupid smiles on their faces, Bae and the Dark One came into view.

The sorcerer had his gnarled hand planted firmly on Bae's shoulder, and it was clear that the trade was to be made that very second.

Once Rumplestiltskin had crested the hill, Belle at his side, he drew the knife from his belt and held it out for the Dark One to take. The sorcerer did just that, snatching it from Rumplestiltskin's grasp like it was made of the finest and most precious material, rather than just glinting and embellished iron.

It was a long moment though, before the creature released his son. It was a moment in which Rumplestiltskin held what little he had left of his breath.

Baelfire flew into his father's arms, before throwing himself at Belle and squeezing her tightly, and the sorcerer disappeared in the thinnest cloud of smoke without another word.

Rumplestiltskin felt his leg grow weak once more, and his muscles lose their strength, but it wasn't important in light of all that he had gained. He watched Belle embrace his son, and he felt true happiness.

Belle looked at him, with those too-blue eyes, and quipped, "Now we _must_ have an adventure."

Rumplestiltskin smiled.

Baelfire laughed. "Not just yet, Belle. We have to let you see your father first!"

She gazed down at the boy. "My father's dead."

"No." Bae shook his shaggy head, a wide smile creeping across his face. "He's not."

Belle looked up at Rumplestiltskin and he nodded in confirmation.

"If," she said, visibly holding back tears, "that..._man_ hadn't been carried off in a dress by a dragon, I'd kill him."

Her threat, Rumplestiltskin thought, was rather hampered by her relieved tears. He hobbled over to her nonetheless, and put his arm about her slender, shaking shoulders, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

She leant into him, Bae tucked against her, and even the thought of what Belle's father – a _king_ – might think about all..._this_ couldn't put a dampener on his spirits.

* * *

The travel to Belle's home wasn't as arduous as the journey Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire had made in the first place, and this was mainly due to the purses of gold Rumplestiltskin had saw fit to lift from Hordor's private rooms after liberating the Dark One's knife.

It had bought them a carriage-ride most of the way, before stopping in a town where they had then bought two plain horses and continued on.

It was, Rumplestiltskin thought, a far better way for a peasant to turn up on a king's doorstep, than walking in on foot, dirty from the road and many rest-stops in the forest.

Though Rumplestiltskin's happiness was great and his hope could not be stifled, it was a little...weighed down. The towns closest to Avonlea were heavily damaged, and though not King Maurice's domain Rumplestiltskin was assured by Belle that her father would want to rebuild the homes and villages.

King Maurice's lands were not so damaged, but Rumplestiltskin was sure that Belle's father would rather have her marry someone with money to help with the rebuilding than a peasant with a son and only a small bag of gold to his name.

It wasn't that he was worried about being able to be with Belle, but more that Belle would be split by her father's displeasure at the match and her feelings for himself. He didn't want her to have to choose.

They arrived at King Maurice's castle without fanfare, a simple party, but were greeted like conquering heroes once Belle was recognised as her father's daughter.

They brought with them, as they entered the castle's grand gates, a huge party of cheering men and women and children, tailing the horses with smiles on their faces. It told Rumplestiltskin, who watched with Bae from their steed, that the princess was well-loved by her people, and it made it harder to imagine them leaving this place, where they were so welcome.

Belle and Rumplestiltskin, along with Bae, were seen from their horses and up the grand steps leading into the castle's inner gates. They were met inside the doors of a grand hall by a smiling, tearful man whose crown fell lopsided on his head as he threw his ermine-clad arms about his daughter.

"Papa," Belle said, drawing back with a smile on her face and reaching out to Rumplestiltskin. "This is the man who saved me, Rumplestiltskin, and his son, Baelfire."

Rumplestiltskin would have knelt and might have even thought about grovelling were it not for the hand that Belle put in his and the king that suddenly clasped his shoulders in large, strong hands.

"_Thank you_," King Maurice said fervently. "You've brought my girl back to me, and for that, I am in your debt."

He nearly choked at the thought of a _king_ being in his – _Rumplestiltskin's_! – debt, but Belle saved him from his embarrassment and brought their hands to the fore instead of hiding them in the folds of her skirt.

King Maurice glanced down, and though his brow creased for a fraction of a second, Rumplestiltskin knew he was not to be disappointed. The king glanced at his daughter like he knew she had already made up her mind, and _smiled_.

"A wedding!" He called out, causing the crowds at their back, at the bottom of the steps, to cry out joyously. "There will be a wedding!"

Rumplestiltskin blinked, Bae practically bouncing with excitement at his side, and Belle gave him a very secret smile.

* * *

It was later that night, after an incredible celebratory banquet and leaving Belle in the company of her overjoyed father, that Rumplestiltskin first began to truly take everything in.

He was in his quarters – _his quarters_ – and Bae was asleep in the adjoining room, enjoying the softness and comfort of an actual bed, and one fit for Belle's father at that.

He sat at the end of his own bed, relishing the warmth of the fire in the hearth across from him and putting a hand to his full and aching belly. He'd never seen so much food, and it had rather gone to his head. Bae's too, if the boy's groans had been any indication.

He watched the fire dance as he thought about the king's welcome and Belle's smile. She was happy, and so was he.

There was a sudden knock at his door, and he turned his head, frowning, to call out unsurely, "Come in?"

The door opened and Belle slipped around the corner, smiling, fresh curls falling about her robed shoulders. She closed the door behind her and came to his side as he stood to meet her, her bare feet quiet against the rugs lining the stone floor.

Though bemused at the late time of her visit and her attire, he couldn't say he wasn't happy to see her.

Once before him, she said, "You know, I think you've quite won my father over."

"That's good," he replied softly, voice low and hands reaching out.

She stepped into his offered embrace without hesitation, sighing into his neck as she buried her face there.

It seemed like such a long time, and then, all at once, that her breaths turned to kisses and her kisses turned to passion. It ignited his own, that sleepy and slumbering thing, beginning to burn in the pit of his stomach.

Belle's fingers caught the edges of his borrowed silken nightshirt, and he, in turn, found the sash of her robe. He toyed with the length of soft material, running it through his fingers like he would when at his wheel.

"You were married before," Belle said, drawing back her kisses, and he nodded pointlessly. "Will you show me what it is to be a wife?"

She knew what she was saying, he could see. Rumplestiltskin watched Belle's skin glow in the firelight, her eyes so soft and serious as she gazed back, and he wanted nothing more to have her in the enormous bed at his back, smiling between the soft sheets.

"We'll be married soon," he whispered, not really denying her, as he tucked a curl behind her ear. "You don't want to wait?"

She shook her head, the curl coming loose again, and Rumplestiltskin smiled.

He didn't tell her his insecurities, or how his first wife had found him wanting. He simply let her lead him to the side of the bed and laid down with her at her gesture.

Her fingers held his face as he kissed her, tasting her lips again and sighing at the feel of her mouth when she chose to part her lips and flick out that tempting tongue of hers. A simple lick against his tongue and it drove his hands into her hair, cradling her head as he settled against her.

She gasped at the feel of him, hard, against her hip, biting her lip and looking up at him with such _longing_. He'd never been wanted like this, never been _needed_, and it was a heady feeling as Belle pulled him closer, her soft thighs parting to cradle his.

He muttered against her ear as he kissed it – silly, nonsensical things that would amount to nothing in the eyes of another, and yet Belle smiled and held him like they meant everything. Like telling her she was soft and pretty and so very lovely was the ultimate compliment, the one true key to her very special heart.

Gently, watching her face, he let one hand trace her shoulder, down to the parting of her robe, and tried not to let the apple in his throat bob nervously as he glanced down to see the nightgown she wore was of the finest and thinnest cotton.

It had rucked up about her thighs and he tried not to feel overwhelmed as he eyed the soft skin of her slim legs, the pinkness of her knees, and the dark nipples he spied beneath the gauzy material of the nightgown.

Belle watched him look at her, eyelids cast low and cheeks flushed. She pressed a warm hand to his bare knee and smiled.

Not intentionally trying to gain himself more time, Rumplestiltskin took care as he slipped the robe off of her shoulders, admiring every inch of her.

"You..." He swallowed his husky whisper, and Belle pulled him closer for a kiss.

"Show me," she said. "Just let me feel you."

Eyes on hers, he slipped a gentle hand up her thigh, his breath hitching at the feel of her warm skin against his rough hands. Belle jumped as his thumb caressed her hip, but she pressed back against him a moment later, eagerness lighting her darkened eyes.

"Rum, _yes_..."

The nightgown lifted with his exploring hand, sliding up, up, _up_...until he glimpsed the dark nest of curls at the apex of her creamy thighs. He swallowed against the desire overwhelming him, trying to be careful and trying to avoid the flinches of pain and unpleasantness that were sure to follow.

But they never came, those flinches.

Belle did not lay still – she arched against his hand and writhed against the knee of his between hers – and thoughts of past words came to mind, of her telling him that the one place her father and her station hadn't been able to control was her mind and her imagination.

"Have you...thought about this?" Rumplestiltskin asked Belle, leaning even closer as he trailed his hand further up her body, drawing her nightgown with it. "Before?"

She watched him beneath her lashes, as she wet her bottom lip and nodded. He tried not to groan, not to think about sweet Belle imagining a man's touch, but it was in vain.

He muffled the noise against her scented curls, just as his hand slid up her ribcage and found her soft breast. They watched, together, as the nightgown fell from its gathering place on the back of his hand and revealed his palm cupping her breast.

She was so soft and silken against his hand, her pink nipple rising to meet his curious thumb, and it was all he could do not to rush this, not to rush _her_. She deserved time and patience, and he could give that to her. He would give her anything.

Rumplestiltskin kissed Belle's cheek, her chin, her neck, placing slow glancing blows across her collar bone, before traversing her sternum, and then her quivering breasts. They jolted with her shallow, heavy breaths as he drew her nightgown up with his other unoccupied hand, with help from her, off over her head once and for all.

He shyly fancied he could almost feel her heartbeat against his palm, through the soft flesh of her breast, and he wondered how hard it was beating, whether desire laced the blood in her veins as much as his did.

She cried out when he placed his mouth there, at her nipple, with just a single kiss. She felt so wonderful against his lips, so lovely and alive, and he looked up to see her pearly teeth buried in the reddened flesh of her lower lip.

He liked that, he thought rather breathlessly. He liked seeing her undone. He liked seeing her in his thrall, and there was no dominion or power over her, because he didn't want that. He only wanted her like this, affected by him, in _love_ with him, and there was no need to claim her.

If she, freely, wanted to be with him, surely that was a thousand times better than _keeping_ her? Why didn't more people understand that?

Perhaps, Rumplestiltskin idly thought as he tasted the curve of Belle's right breast, it was simply because other men did not have _Belle_.

Before he truly knew it, her clever hands were stroking his sides, slipping beneath his nightshirt and drawing it up from where it ended at his hips. The silk made him shiver as it, along with Belle's fingers, caressed his chest, bringing the shirt over his head and down his arms.

She threw it to the wayside as she gazed down, blue eyes drinking in the sight of him above her, naked as she. Her palms slid down his spine, fingertips grazing his backside, before slipping around his middle, thumbs stroking the line of hair trailing down from his flat belly.

Belle glanced down at him, his cock, his chest, his legs, and the only thing he could read in her face, stronger than her desire, was curiosity.

A faint smile crossed her lips and she pulled him closer, pushing her head into the pillows so she could look him in the eye as he settled against her once again.

Rumplestiltskin near-trembled at the feel of Belle against him, so soft and solid and warm, and then, lower, between her parted silken thighs, he could feel true heat. His fingers trailed her ribs, dipping lower, eyes falling to his fingertips as they darted about her navel, before venturing lower.

Her curls were thick and textured there, a more than pleasant contrast against the hot feel of her skin as he traced a finger down the crease on the inside of her thigh. Dampness met his fingers next, causing him to pause as his breath stuttered.

He hadn't hoped for this much. The chance to be let into her bed, to simply touch Belle so _intimately_, was enough, but for her to enjoy his attentions, to urge him to continue to touch her, to whisper against his shaven face for more... She deserved so much in return.

One hand at her breast, he let the other softly stroke between her thighs. Belle gave a soft keening noise at his touch, drawing her knees wider apart as he pressed gentle, shaking fingers between the folds of her slick womanhood.

He shut his eyes at the feel of her, _tight_ and wet and so very warm, and he searched for pleasure to give her, sure that he was doing something right as she uttered his name so perfectly on a single breath.

Rumplestiltskin stroked her, petting, searching for the places that made her gasp as he ran his fingertips through her folds and, gently, about the entrance between. It was only when Belle tugged him closer, causing his knee to slip and his palm to press hard against her that she truly cried out, causing him to draw back sharply until he realised...

There, beneath the thickest of her curls and at the very top of her slit, was a small nub. In his shadow from the firelight, he could barely see it, but his thumb could feel the tender flesh, pulsing with Belle's heartbeat, and it was as he stroked it, cautious and expectant, that she truly _writhed_.

"Oh, Gods," Belle gasped, one hand clawing at Rumplestiltskin's shoulder as the other fisted in the dark bed sheets. "Oh, Gods, _Rum_..."

Confidence bolstered, he worried the small pearl of hers between his thumb and middle finger, and, like he'd snapped her in two just with those fingers of his, Belle arched and froze, trembling beneath his very hand, wet and clutching and...

"Oh," was the sound that came from him as he watched Belle fall, gasping against the bed, her hair in disarray and her eyes closed as she panted.

And then those eyes opened. They were dark, stormy, but still so blue he felt as if he could fall in them. Her hands tugged him closer, sluggish, like she couldn't quite remember how to use them properly, and he felt a grin crawl across his face, smug.

"What did you do?" She asked him breathlessly, and he replied with utter honesty.

"I'm not sure."

"I liked it," Belle said, smiling suddenly, as radiant as the sun.

Rumplestiltskin smiled too, removing his sticky fingers from her pink and quivering flesh, but his smile was short-lived. Belle – curious and lovely Belle – took it upon herself to take him in hand, quite literally, and it robbed him of all coherent thought as she touched his cock, stroking him with tentative fingers.

Her thumb brushed the damp, flushed head of him, and he felt like howling. As it was, he settled for a strangled moan, kissing Belle and mouthing the shell of her ear.

She shivered beneath him, bucking her hips as she tilted her head to kiss him, and that was that. His hard length met her soft flesh so accidentally it shocked them both into utter stillness.

And then he gently pressed forward, testing. Belle didn't flinch, didn't ask for reprieve – she let him in.

He curled about her as she grunted, pained at his entry, and he pressed soft kisses to her shoulder when she tensed, her fingernails digging into the skin at the small of his back.

So slowly, he thought he might have imagined it at first, Belle's muscles loosened, her limbs softening about him, and he left himself take a deep breath.

She smelt of flowers he'd never seen and fruits he didn't know of, scented from her bath, and he revelled in her skin, the feel of her breasts crushed against his chest, but most of all the word that tripped from her petal-soft lips.

"_Rumplestiltskin_."

His hips jerked against her at the sound and she gasped, but he didn't have time to worry, time to draw away or apologise, because she pulled him tight against her and curled her legs about him.

Her eyes were half-closed, her mouth parted, and she looked thoroughly debauched with her hair, crazed, about her head. She kissed him, urging him on, and it would take a much stronger man than he to deny her.

Rumplestiltskin rocked his hips against Belle's, shaking against her as he felt her tight passage clutch at him, tightening about his cock until he was half-mad with it. She sighed against his ear, breath hitching, and then he felt her there, that nub, pressed tightly against him.

He looked down at her and found her face creased in pleasure once more. Determined, he pressed and rocked, sliding from her so carefully before thrusting back inside, disoriented from the mere heat of her _surrounding _him.

Her cries grew louder as he pressed harder, seeking to crush her very pleasure from that fleshy bump. He knew when he had completed his task, feeling her nails and her mouth and every inch of her against him. She groaned into his neck, burying her face there as she squeezed him.

Rumplestiltskin came quickly, unashamed as he rocked into Belle one last time to fill her, trembling all over and releasing a low, feral moan into her soft neck.

They cooled in the dimming firelight, laying there against each other until he was afraid he was hurting her and moved to lie on the open plain of bed at her side.

Belle lay there for a moment, staring at the beams crossing the ceiling, before turning her head to look at him as he watched her.

She smiled, all breathless wonder, and said, "That was an adventure all by itself."

Rumplestiltskin breathed a laugh, pushing a hand through her mussed curls and drawing near to kiss her again.

"I think," Belle said against his lips after a moment, "I want another adventure."

He glanced at her, ears warming. "I don't think I can–"

She pressed her soft hand to his mouth, obviously trying not to laugh as she bit her lip, grinning.

"I _meant_," Belle stressed, "a _new_ one. Let's leave, with Bae, soon."

"But your father," he said and she smiled.

"He'll understand."

They stayed that way for a while, tucking themselves under the sheets, Belle talking about the lands she wanted to see and the places she wanted to explore and Rumplestiltskin suggesting they buy a donkey for old time's sake.

Belle laughed, a drowsy noise, and as he listened to her fall asleep against his shoulder, images of the future drifting through his head, he rather thought they wouldn't be in Maurice's kingdom long enough to stay for their own wedding.

* * *

**Author's note**: Two guesses the unconventional fairytale I based this AU on? I stand by it! Rum is Scottish, Bae is cute and floofy, and Belle is no shy and retiring lady. Thank you for reading.


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